This is Canada
by MikoAlchemist
Summary: Linda Fielders, friend and Canadian Citizen, feels that it's her responsibility to help Matthew get recognized by nations who tends to forget his existence. Being a 13 year old loud-mouth, life decides to be a jerk and decides to screw with her plans.


**THE FOLLOWING STORY REFLECTS HOW SLEEP DEPRIVED I AM. **

**But I needed to get this out of my head.**

**Disclaimers are dumb.**

**I'm wasting precious space. To make it seem like I wrote a lot.  
**

* * *

The typical reactions I get when I tell people I'm Canadian is usually; "Oh really?", "Wow, must be cold up there", "Do you have a pet polar bear?", "Do you live in igloos?", "Do you really have Mounties?" and the most reoccurring question of all, "Where's Canada?"

I really hate that last question, and it's especially depressing when it's an American who asks it. Sometimes it makes me want to shove a map in their face and go "THE COUNTRY SITTING ON AMERICA AND BURNED YOUR PRECIOUS WHITEHOUSE"

I never do though ('cause I know that there's a good chance that I'll lose my kneecaps), I normally reply with "Niagara Falls".

They get that one at least.

But the feeling I get from proclaiming about being Canadian is exhilarating. It's like a warm bubble that grows inside my chest and explodes with glitters and sparkles, warming my entire form and growing wings. Either that or I've had too many cans of red bull in one lifespan.

Despite the after affects of possible "red bull overdose" feeling, I've been stating my Canadian citizenship-ness more often nowadays.

I swear; I'm not abusing it just to feel high or something.

I actually have a legitimate reason to say it. Really.

I recently befriended a young man in his late teens, whose face lights up like a Christmas tree every time I confess how much I love my country. He would then look so bashful and twirl the cord in his hoodie, as his face turn to this almost comical colour of red. In which the moment would be ruined by the hungry cry of his robotic polar bear, without missing a beat.

Matthew Williams is a peculiar person. I believe I have seen his face somewhere before, but I can't place it. I could be wrong though, I've seen two or three people who have similar facial features in magazines. He's a humble optimistic gentleman, whom most people take for granted. Matthew has a tendency to carry a small robotic bear cub that periodically forgets its master. I must admit, he looks adorable with that thing. Though I wish Matthew would stop wearing these hideous saturated coloured plaid shirts I see him wear in public sometimes.

Maybe he wears them on purpose? Foreigners do tend to forget his existence sometimes.

At least Matthew's popular with the kids. The younger half of the new generation loved Matthew for the stories he tell. The way the words just seem to roll off his tongue, as he pinches characters in the sandbox could settle any child and bind them in a spell-bound state.

The older half of the generation admired Matthew for his humour, and quick passive-aggressive comments hidden behind layers of praise.

I fall under this category too, being the thirteen year old fangirl that I am. He shimmied his way into my pre-pubescent heart with that (should be) award winning joke of the year-

"I'm Canada" Matthew answered, tearing his eyes away from the televion.

Kumajirou looked up at its master, dark bead-like eyes reflected purple orbs. "Hungry"

Matthew's shoulders slumped as he obeyed the great white form that radiated "cuddle me" to all girls within a meter of its presence.

I transferred from one end of the couch, to the middle, as soon as he left the room. Therefore, claiming the seat that was nearest to the popcorn bowl.

"My spot now"

From my peripheral vision, I could see his blond head peek out from the hallway, "You suck"

He probably stuck his tongue out too, but alas; I'm cursed with glasses. So I wasn't able to confirm that action, unless I turned my head.

"Shush Mattie, go slave for your plush toy. As I usurp the warmth you have bestowed on to this couch with your butt"

I could hear Matthew chuckle in the kitchen, as the said plush looked at me with a questionable look.

Well, it'd be questionable if it were a living being.

"You're weird," Kumajirou padded closer to me, peaking over the surface of the coffee table, "gimme"

The popcorn was its goal and beyond its reach. Should I give an inanimate object some of the precious cheese flavoured popcorn, even if Mattie was preparing food for it?

I answered with a fistful of popcorn crammed into my mouth.

"Pig" Kumajirou snorted as it crawled to a corner, where Matthew's stuff was dumped four hours prior.

Matthew sure does keep some strange stuff on his persons sometimes. He always keeps a bottle of maple syrup, a pocket swiss army survival kit, a lighter (he doesn't smoke cigarettes, but he does smell funny sometimes), bandaids, a white hankerchief embroidered with "I'm Canada" across it, and a pencil. I know how obsessed he is with downing almost every beverage and snacks with maple syrup, so that's understandable. I have some friends who keep their own little swiss army kits, it's cool. I really don't get the other things though. Maybe he's just a really paranoid guy who watched too many horror movies with that other dude whose name escapes me for the time being.

Forcing my jaw to clam itself shut proved to be a difficult task, without it accidentally going down my trachea and die. Making witty comeback at robotic bear is not recommended at the moment.

In the midst of my despair, the bear ninja-ed in my face and took a picture with Matthew's cellphone while I almost choked on popcorn and saliva.

"Funny" it mumbled, as it jumped off my lap and onto the table. If I wasn't so worried about choking and possible nearby hormone-driven teenage girls who collect hello kitty figures, I would kick that furball.

Kumajirou watched me as it dipped its paw into my upturned Monsters Inc hard hat and took out a piece of popcorn. It chewed slowly as soon at the piece was placed inserted. "That's how you're supposed to eat"

By this time, I managed to get my mouth to close; but I still look like a chubby squirrel caught in traffic.

Do not want.

So like any normal person would do under my situation, I started to drain the water from my crushed plastic bottle.

I have a habit of squeezing my water bottles after an unfortunate accident between my 6th grade teacher and I during a class picnic. I can now safely say that ever since then, I've never made the same mistake twice.

SUDDENLY A GIANT BEAVER PUNCHED A HOLE IN THE LIVING ROOM. I GOT ANGRY AND WRESTLED WITH IT AND WON. THEN I BECAME MOIRA, QUEEN OF THE BEAVERS.

I totally wished that could've happened, but it didn't. That's a name, but not my name. There was a beaver though, and it did punch a hole in the wall.

Just not my wall.

What really happened was that a commercial was happening while I was gulping down h2o like a madman.

Something about saving the trees, or brown flat-tailed rodents would come and make your repair bills shoot through the roof.

But wait- that's not the amazing part.

Matthew appears on screen with Kumajirou in his arms and going, "Hi I'm Canada, and I'm here to say that-"

I didn't get the rest of the message, because I was too busy dieing/coughing up water and masticated popcorn mush.

* * *

"So you really are Canada"

"Yes"

"As in, _the_ Canada"

"The very one"

"Big land mass, small population"

"It's not that big of a deal-"

"YES IT IS" slamming my hands on to the table was painful, but at least I looked cool while doing it. I think.

"Popcorn"

The bear stared blankly into my general direction. I snapped my mouth shut, not all the popcorn pieces were gone apparently. I swear I got rid all of them. I freaking flossed!

My eyes wandered to the sink and compost bin. The sink contained the hard hat bowl, while the compost had a wide variety of whole to diarrhea-like popcorn pieces.

Ew. At least he was too pre-occupied in the kitchen to notice anything, while I cleaned up the mess.

Matthew rubbed his face before looking at me in the eyes again, "Yes, I am Canada, your country. I know it's hard to digest but I'm still Matthew Williams"

"B-but I always that you'd be a _girl_, like America-"

"America is a guy"

"What? Isn't the statue of Liberty modelled after her-him-herrrrraaaagh unspecified gender?"

"Linda, the statue of Liberty is modelled after Liberty, and it was my papa to made it"

"So is Liberty personified too?"

Matthew's eyes widened, "If she were, Alfred would never leave her alone"

Alfred. Alfred. Alfred. Alfred F something, Alfred... Alfred F. Bones? Mones? Hones? Jones. Alfred F. Jones. What a generic surname, although Matthew is no exception.

"Ohhh, you mean hamburger guy"

Now I remember, he was the one who kept eating hamburgers (I still don't know where he pockets them) when we went to the CNE. It was hot as heck that day, and he still managed to go through twenty-five burgers in three hours. Plus it was super crowded. I'm still deciding whether or not I should commend the action, or be thoroughly disturbed.

"Yes, he's America"

"Wow, I always thought you'd both be females."

"Sorry to disappoint you," shrugging as he sipped his milk-tea-maple-thing.

"Well, that sucks. Not that it sucks that you're Canada. It just sucks that knowing that you're Canada, I would never get the chance to tell funny dirty jokes or something around you anymore."

"You can still do that. Like I said, I'm also Matthew"

"But dude" I cried, drawling out the 'u', "that's like telling my grandma dirty jokes. No offense."

Matthew's face fell a little, but suddenly replaced with a smirk that I never thought he was capable of doing. "Grammy Matthew will still love you, no matter how many dirty jokes you would say. Because Grammy Matthew knows that it will never amount to the number of times you proudly announced your love for Grammy in front of Grammy's brother" Then he glazed it with an elderly cackle.

"Wait, I don't get you. I didn't say it too many times in front of Alfred"

His face practically glowed, "Alfred recorded the whole thing"

"Buaha! That's just a recording- oh."

So that's why Alfred kept laughing long after I was done being in 'Canadian Patriot' mode.

...

...

...

I will kick his face in.

* * *

**YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. AFTER DECADES OF BEING MIA FROM THE INTERNETS, I AM BACK. WITH SOMETHING ELSE.**

**BECAUSE I HAVE LOST MY LOVE AND RESPECT FOR -MAN. I'm not reposting "Smart Cookie" Nor am I editing it, because no amount of shame could cover that piece of monstrosity. So I did my best to eradicate it from the internet.**

**Random theme requests are welcomed. Grammar corrections is also welcomed.  
**


End file.
